


Away from Home are some and I

by mangacrack



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Doriath, Drama in Nargothrond, F/M, Loss, grievance, hardship, sons of feanor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21784735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangacrack/pseuds/mangacrack
Summary: With a strange light in his eyes Celegorm swears a bloody vengeance on the lonely banks of the River Sirion.
Relationships: Celegorm | Turcafinwë/Lúthien Tinúviel
Comments: 3
Kudos: 48





	Away from Home are some and I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rookblonkorules](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rookblonkorules/gifts).



> _My words are nearly always an offence._  
>  _I don't know how to speak of anything_  
>  _So as to please you._

Irony dictates that they meet at the same river again, one year after their initial encounter. Back then Lúthien had been painstakingly beautiful even with her hair cut short. In their memories, it looks like a summer meeting, bright and perfect. It had been thoroughly pleasant all around. He offered her a place at his fire, a warm cloak for the night and his horse. 

The short time they journeyed together, alone and afar from any kind of political influence looks like a lie in hindsight. 

Celegorm spits on the ground and hopes the bitterness pooling in his stomach will leave him as he once again spots the Elleth approaching him on the banks of the River Sirion. 

"What do you want, Melianiel? Have you done not enough damage?" He  picks out the first nasty words coming to his mind and pulls his sword free. 

In his anger, he marches through the pitiful camp of their people. It's late autumn. The ground is wet and cold, the families huddle around smoking campfires as they try to stay warm. 

Lúthien's hair isn't much longer compared to the day they met. It barely reaches her shoulders, now hiding her eyes as she refuses to meet his gaze. Instead, she stares at her feet. 

"I am aware how unwelcome my presence is to you," Luthien speaks. She keeps her gaze lowered and Celegorm towers above her. 

Behind him, warriors shift nervously. They have been tethering on the edge since Orodreth forced them out of Nargothrond, barely giving them time to prepare for a hard journey through the winter and thus further punishing broken people who lost their home once already. 

"You should go back to where you came from. Whatever brought you here, Doriath is not far. If the rumours are true, then you are more than capable to take care of yourself until you pass through your dear mother's impenetrable border." 

Among Fëanor's children, Celegorm is seldom the one to lose his temper. Within the company, he's loud and loves to cause a ruckus, a behaviour born out of distant times when he was the youngest and competed against his older brothers for attention. From Oromë he learned patience. 

Today, and with the sight of Lúthien Huan's betrayal fresh in mind, he's far from calm and collected. 

Maedhros would berate him for losing his temper in such a crucial situation. Lúthien is not to be underestimated, even alone. Thankfully, Celegorm is aware of Curufin approaching. His brother keeps himself at the edge of his vision. As for himself, he's dressed in full-armour and his lean frame, strength eaten away by grief and sorrow, but Celegorm notes Curufin keeps his hands free. 

Just in case, he has to prevent Celegorm from acting rash and making a desicion he will come to regret. 

"The House of Fëanor owes me nothing, I am aware of that. Though I would not have come, if I knew where else I could go," Lúthien says. As much as she tries to hide it, her lips quiver. 

She has to look Celegorm yet into his eyes. 

Angry and fed up with her lies, the hunter snarls and raises his sword. It speaks for itself that he feels a little bit of satisfaction when she flinches. He has no true intention of harming her, but for the grief she brought to Nargothrond with her actions, it's a just retribution. 

The truth is, Orodreth would have found another reason for getting rid of the unwanted refugee camp from Himlad. Finrod welcomed them gladly, for he remembered the good days with his cousins in Valinor. Orodreth has little love for them and had been freshly driven from Minas Tirith himself. Celegorm can not even entirely fault him for wishing to preserve precious resources when there are plenty space and food waiting for them in Amon Ereb. 

No, it's Lúthien's own actions he resents. The Elleth he met in the outskirts of Doriath one year ago quickly changed her colours once she had proper and noble company around her. Gone were the kind words, the shared tales about forests they had seen through they lifetimes and light touches of naked skin against warm grass. 

"At least have enough courage to face me," Celegorm hisses. The tip of his sword rests against Lúthien's throat. "Someone who is able to challenge Sauron, has the spirit to look a simple hunter into his grieving eyes." 

For Huan is  _dead._ Celegorm didn't need the sparse tales from the Sindar living near Doriath to know his friend is gone. 

All for this woman in front of him. 

Celegorm growls. It's a struggle to keep himself from edging closer, pressing the knife deeper into her flesh to scare her a little. Maybe move around her, grab her wrist and trap them on her back, making her realize how much stronger, scarier and meaner he can be. 

He doesn't. He hasn't crossed the line, not yet. 

It's difficult to say if the memories of the few times Lúthien fully embraced him with her body and her soul are keeping him from falling into the dark abyss or if they are the reason why he's unravelling. 

Lúthien finally looks up and sends him a tearful smile. 

The moment their eyes meet, Celegorm freezes. His anger slowly ebbs away when he sees how deeply grief and fear tore into her soul. 

With her words, Lúthien confirms what Celegorm already knows. 

"Beren is dead. He died at Huan's si de . They both fought against the beast, giving their lives to defend Doriath." Lúthien sobs and while Celegorm never  _liked_ the man, he cannot deny the woman the truth of her pain. 

Right now, he can feel with her and deeply buried beneath the pain of Huan's betrayal, he can even admit that the odd couple needed his aid more than Celegorm did. 

While he may not say it out loud, the thought is enough to lower his sword. 

"I take no pleasure in your suffering, Lady," Celegorm says. Tension bleeds out of the situation. Behind him, the warriors step away and return to their places. Only Curufin and a handful of servants remain. "I extend my deepest sympathies to you. May my condolences bring you comfort, despite the strife grew between us in the last year." 

Before Lúthien can offer an awkward answer, Curufin steps in and proves himself of more diplomacy than Celegorm at the momemt. 

"Lady Tinúviel, having lost my wife very recently I also express my deep regret. Such a loss is always difficult to bear for those who remain behind. But if you would answer the question what brings you to our camp? While my brother spoke in haste and in anger, he's right to inquire what are you doing so far from Doriath. Has something grave befallen your home?" 

A shudder runs down Celegorm's spine. He hasn't thought that far, but it's quite possible that more beasts followed Lúthien and Beren out of Angband. 

It is beyond imaginable relief that the princess shakes her head. 

"Doriath fares well enough to sully itself with prejudges," she answers. This time, there's less sorrow in her voice. Instead, anger and loneliness swing with it. 

Celegorm finally calms down enough to thoroughly study the Elleth. Before, he didn't notice her bare feet or her bloodstained clothes. She has barely anything with her. Even the day they met, the princess kept herself well provided. If it wouldn't be for the knowledge that in front of him stands the once most well-guarded woman in entire Beleriand, he would've dismissed outright. 

Her appearance is ragged and the circles underneath her eyes speak of bone-deep tiredness. 

Yet, there's also determination. Fear is driving this Elleth. 

The way Lúthien has her cloak wrapped around herself in an attempt to protect herself from sight provides clues why. 

With a strange light in his eyes, Celegorm swears a bloody vengeance on the lonely banks of the River Sirion. Elu Thingol has never been his favourite person. Despite having never met the King of Doriath, the tales his march wardens provided paint a certain picture. Nothing Celegorm could sympathise with, even if he discounted the lack of all military aid in the war against Morgoth and the fact he denied them sanctuary when Himlad burned. 

Stepping closer, Celegorm gently puts a hand on the princess' back. Perhaps it's due to old familiarity that she doesn't flinch, not like she had just moments ago when she faced his anger. 

"Lúthien, please come with us and rest. We have had our differences and no one us is without blame, but I swear to you in my father's name that we offer you all the rights of a guest. No harm shall come to you." Celegorm leads the Sindar Elleth away from prying eyes, back to the command tent. 

In a whisper that is swallowed by the wind almost as soon as its spoken, he adds, "For you  _and_ your child." 

His eyes land on Lúthien's unmistakable swollen belly and catches himself thinking that she looks beautiful. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> For Rookblonorules. Your review inspired this story. I'm happy to have a fellow shipper to call upon!


End file.
